Dead Ringer
by Lapizza Lazuli
Summary: Lately, Mike Schmidt has had a problem. As a dreaded date approaches, all he has eaten for he past four days is delivery pizza. What could a fifth night of pizza possibly do? Rated T for swearing and dark themes.
1. 9:00 PM

Tomorrow is not another day. It was a nightmare- the anniversary of the worst day of Mike Schmidt's life.

He groaned into his pillow. After four hours of lying on his raggedy couch, his hunger pangs overcame his emptiness.

Reluctantly, he weakly pushed himself off the couch and dragged himself to the wall, where the phone hung next to the unattended calendar. He didn't need to mark the calendar to realize it was three hours until November 11th: exactly a year after his fourth night at the worst job he has ever held.

While ignoring the feeling of the calendar staring at him, Mike flipped open his phone book, which sat on the small table. He briefly glanced at the four empty pizza boxes littered throughout the room and then scanned the yellow pages for pizza delivery services.

Ironically, Mike cringed at the sight of phones and pizza, but ordering pizza was the only way of getting food he had any energy to pursue. He ran out of food this week, and actually leaving the house after work for the past few weeks seemed just as impossible as feeling less lonely. What could a fifth night of pizza possibly do?

After lazily scrolling through business names, Mike's eyes abruptly stopped. _Pizza Italy._

This was the first pizzeria he found that he didn't already order from this week. He never heard of the place; however it didn't matter- he felt too embarrassed to order from a familiar restaurant so soon again.

Mike circled the business's phone number with his pen.

Almost mindlessly, he reached for the phone without looking. Once he touched it, he flinched.

He raised his head and stared at it with stinging eyes.

No. He wouldn't dare call Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. That bear...that deep gargle. Although it was irrational, the idea of associating with that pizzeria whatsoever made him feel like the robots could track him down. He already still expected Freddy to appear every time he heard a small clink, and he didn't need anymore fire to fuel his consuming paranoia. Besides, the health department unsurprisingly shut down that shack months ago. Nothing human would answer the calls. Something inhuman, on the other hand...

Mike winced and rubbed his eyes hard.

It would be worth it, though. To hear his voice again from the answering machine...

He sighed as he punched in the pizzeria's digits.

As the phone rang two long times, Mike stared at the plain wall and twirled the cord in boredom.

Finally, the call picked up.

"Hello? Hello, hello?" a haunting, familiar voice greeted.

Mike's entire body jolted, and a flash of ice violently shot through his veins. His arms trembled so violently that he almost dropped the phone.

 _What was that?!_ Mike internally screamed. Was he hallucinating? What kind of sick joke is this?

He didn't call Freddy Fazbear's Pizza.

He decided to dial the other pizzeria instead.

Mike clenched his stomach as it twisted painfully.

"Uh... well, you reached Pizza Italy. What can we do for you today?" the voice continued.

Replying was out of the question- Mike's throat was too tense to even swallow.

"Uh... hello?" the voice nagged. "Are you... uh... doing alright there? Uh."

No. No he fucking wasn't.

 _What_ was going on?

"Heh, indecisive about your order or question?" the voice asked. Mike heard a cough. "It's fine- no worries, really. But, uh, we have other customers, you know. I'll put you on hold for now, if that's alright with you."

It was alright with him, but with his stiff tongue, he didn't have a choice anyway.

After a click, annoying jazz music played.

Mike clutched the phone in a tight, painful grip as he waited and wondered if the man on the phone really was Phone Guy, as Mike nicknamed his former trainer.

 _Of course not,_ Mike thought. After all, every single animatronic sounded like they were going after him in his final call almost exactly a year ago, and there was that terrifying, deep scream at the end...

 _What did he have to go though?_ Mike wondered as chill ran up his spine.

However, Phone Guy's voice sounded so distinct, so unforgettable. To Mike, a different man with a voice _that_ similar existing seemed just as unlikely as him surviving.

Mike tapped his fingers feverishly as he continued to wait. A minute then felt like the equivalent of an hour at the Freddy Fazbear's Pizza night shift. Yet, not nearly enough time passed for him to control his rapid, shallow breathing. At least his heart slowed down to the staggering pace of a race car before the music stopped.

"Hello!" the warm voice chimed again, after a brief moment of static. "Hello, hello. It's me. Uh, again. Have you decided what you want yet?"

"Yeah," Mike forced himself to say.

"Ah, that's... great!" The man sounded genuinely surprised to hear an answer.

Mike's stomach knotted. It was so eerie to receive a reply from the voice of Phone Guy. Everything felt like a hazy, deranged dream.

"So, uh, what would you like?" the voice asked.

The knots in Mike's stomach grew even stronger, as he just registered now that whatever _he_ would say might actually be heard by Phone Guy, for a change.

"Come to my place," Mike blurted. Feverish heat immediately rose to his face when he realized what he said.

There was laughing on the other end. "Of course! Ha. First, you gotta order your pizza!"

Now, Mike's face was burning. Great, the asshole needed to rub it in.

"Pepperoni. Medium," Mike muttered. " _Yes_ , I would like it on bread and for it to be cooked." He smirked. Two can play at this game.

"Uh, I don't know about _bread_ \- that might be kinda gross. But, we do, however, have dough! Ha, just messing with you. You're a funny guy. I'm actually the only delivering pizza tonight, so lucky you, right? Oh! Uh, your address, please."

After Mike revealed his address, the man said, "Hey, that's pretty close! I'll see you in, uh, five minutes, buddy!"

 _Buddy._ A warm smile grew upon Mike's face.

The phone clicked, and then the harsh disconnect noise blared.

Then the grin faded, and panic started to spread in Mike's body. Mike slammed the phone into the receiver.

Phone Guy could be _alive,_ and they might _meet_ each other. Scratch that, they already talked.

Mike's stomach dropped at imagining what Phone Guy's impression of him would be. After all, everything he did after that dreaded job was based on if it would make Phone Guy proud, because it was the only way Mike could think of to honor him. What would Phone Guy regard of the mess that's his apartment, and well, his life?

This might be the day Mike only could dream of: to meet the eye of the hurricane of that damned job... and of his life.

He took a deep breath as he mentally rehearsed his planned routine several times. _Say "thank you". Give the money and the tip. Asked him if he worked at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. If no, tell him that he sounded familiar. If yes-_

A loud, rude knock interrupted the thought and made Mike jolt out of his skin once again.

Hectically, Mike combed his fingers through his thick, messy hair and shoved displaced objects out of the view of the doorway.

Mike slowly reached for the knob with weak, quivering hands.

As he opened the door, he saw an average, slightly dorky young man with a nervous smile. The light from outside illuminated the man from behind.

 _Thank you_ was at the tip of Mike's tongue when he glanced at the man's uniform, but rage swelled in his chest instead.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU WORKING AT ANOTHER PIZZA PLACE FOR?!" Mike shouted with all the bottled up emotion from the past year. So much for the routine.

The man's cheesy smile vanished. "W-What?! Uh, sir, I... I-I don't know, what uh..."

With one hand, Mike snatched the pizza box from the man's grip.

"Fazfuck's Pizza. They _murdered_ you." Mike snarled while pointing with his free hand. "And you're just gonna work at another pizzeria? Why?! What the fuck is wrong with you?!"

"H-How... how did you... uh, know about that?" the man stammered in shock.

Dear lord. It really was him.

The pizza box slipped out of his fingers.

"You're the fucking phone guy!" Mike cried as he grasped the man's shirt. "You saved my sorry ass... you told me everything would be okay. Well, it wasn't! YOU DIED!"

That dreaded sensation of almost sobbing overcame Mike, as his throat tightened and his nose tingled. He buried his face in his hands.

"Oh... wow, uh," Mike heard Phone Guy say. "I never thought..."

A strong, warm embrace encompassed Mike. When he raised his head out of his hands, he saw Phone Guy giving him a tight hug.

"I didn't think that it, that call, would get through. Look, uh, I'm glad the other calls helped, but I'm very sorry you had to hear..." Phone Guy trailed. He tightened the hug before continuing. "...That. Is there anyway I could, you know, make it up to you, or anything?"

Hot tears were spilling out of Mike's eyes by now. He swallowed the lump in his throat and was just glad Phone Guy couldn't catch him crying.

Mike cleared his throat and replied, "You saved my life, idiot." Then, Mike hugged him back even harder.

After a few seconds, he felt Phone Guy firmly grab his shoulders and pull away from the hug. At first, he was ashamed that Phone Guy could notice what an ugly state he was in, but it was okay. Phone Guy had tears welled up in eyes, too.

This time, Phone Guy flashed a genuine smile. "And gave you a year's worth of trauma. How's that? Hey, look, I have another, uh, two hours left on my shift. Is it alright with you if I come back later tonight?"

"Are there any killer animatronics there?"

"Nah, it's just a regular ol' pizza place. No murderers there, animatronic or otherwise," Phone Guy said with a chuckle.

"Then yes."

 **[Author's note: Seriously, is wrong with Phone Guy? Honestly, there is something wrong with him for working at another pizzeria, but I can picture him doing just that. Mike is even worse with his new job, though.**

 **Well, what's Mike's new job then? How did Phone Guy even survive? What was the garbled phone call on Night 5? What happened after Mike got fired? Does my dog miss me while I'm at college?! You'll find out the answers to all of these in the next chapter!**

 **Also, this is all just a big "what-if"! I personally don't think that Phone Guy lived, so therefore, I don't think anything here actually happened. However, if you do, feel free to do so! You can take this either as friendship or romantic. I tried to make it so it could be either way.**

 **ADDITIONALLY (if anyone is still reading this, which I doubt): please tell me on what I should improve on! I know I'm not the best writer, and I want to get better, so don't be afraid to tear this apart or say anything that's on your mind! I won't be offended- I'll be grateful! :D** **]**


	2. 12:00 AM

Regret. That was the word on Mike's mind.

He definitely won't come back. He hates him for sure now. How could he forget? How could be so careless?

Mike forgot to leave a tip. This realization hit him like a freight train the second after he closed the door.

As he took a shaky breath, Mike eyed the clock on the wall, which read 11:32. It was twenty-one minutes and two hours after Phone Guy drove back to complete his shift. Obviously, Phone Guy saw that he didn't give a tip and decided to not come back.

While tugging on the collar of his clammy white button-up shirt he changed into, Mike frantically hid the empty pizza boxes in the kitchen and dug through his drawers to collect spare change.

 _Three quarters... seven dimes... eight pennies._ All of it together sprawled on the counter amounted to $1.53. _That was 15% of $6.72, right?_ Mike thought. He couldn't think straight in this rush, but he sure hoped he wasn't underpaying.

A loud knock came from the door and made Mike's heart thud.

As he creaked open the door, he saw Phone Guy still wearing that hideous, greasy pizza uniform.

"Came back for your tip?" Mike asked as he raised an eyebrow.

Phone Guy's eyes widened in surprise, and after he registered what was going on, he scratched the back of his head in embarrassment. "Ha, no. Uh, sorry. W-We were, uh, running later than expect-"

"Don't worry about it. Here's your tip," Mike blurted as he reached into his pocket. When he felt nothing but fabric, he quickly checked his other three pockets. _Dammit._ He left the change on the counter. "Um, how about you... come inside first? It's pretty chilly."

"Oh! Uh, y-yeah, right," Phone Guy responded as he stepped through the doorway.

After Mike gestured at the coat rack, Phone Guy took off his neon windbreaker and placed it on the rack, but not before uneasily staring at something.

"Is there some-" Mike started as he leaned towards the other man's perspective. Suddenly, the phone's shrill ring conveniently interrupted Mike. "Sorry, be right back."

Absentmindedly, Mike almost passed the phone without thinking and then snatched it out of the receiver before it forwarded to the answering machine.

"Hi!" a perky woman greeted. It sounded slightly distorted and prerecorded. "Are you interested in-"

"No," Mike answered as he hung up. _A telemarketer, really?_ He sighed. _What a waste of ten seconds._

After Mike elusively walked to the kitchen and collected the tip, he walked back to the coat rack with his gaze fixed on the ground.

"Here you go," Mike said as he handed him the change.

"Uh, thanks, Mike!" Phone Guy beamed.

Mike felt a cold shiver go through his body. "H-How... did you know... m-my name?"

The other man looked caught off-guard but then smirked. "How did you know _my_ name?"

"I don't?" Mike said after glancing at Phone Guy's polo, which was missing his name tag.

Phone Guy gave an abashed smile, and his face slightly reddened. "Oops, guess I forgot my name tag again..." He then cleared his throat. "Anyway, I-I'm not stalking you or anything- I saw your name tag on your coat from your coat rack! Your _security guard_ coat."

Mike crossed his armed and raised his eyebrow. "And?"

"Well, I just think it's kinda... strange... how you were upset that I worked at a pizzeria when you are still, uh, in fact a security guard yourself somewhere else.."

Staring at Phone Guy, Mike suddenly felt dizzy from all the blood that drained from his face, leaving it cold. He looked at the ground in shame.

The grin on Phone Guy's face wilted. "Not that there's anything wrong with that!" Phone Guy comforted. "Y-You, uh, you just feel more comfortable working as something you have experience in, right? There's nothing wrong with that! In fact, that's exactly why I work where I do now!"

After a moment of silence, Mike cleared his throat. "Yeah, thanks," he said with a slight smile. "We've been standing here forever, though. Let's get you something."

Phone Guy followed Mike into the kitchen, who then gestured at the pizza from earlier.

"Want pizza?" Mike asked.

"Ha, nah. Pizza gets so gross after awhile, you know?"

"No," Mike quickly responded while kicking an empty pizza box on the floor under the table.

 _Great,_ _the food ran out in the fridge and cabinets four days ago,_ Mike suddenly remembered. He slumped down on a table chair and sighed loudly.

Phone Guy inched closer to Mike and lowered himself. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"There's no food. I have no food," Mike replied in a dry voice as he rubbed his temples.

"Oh, uh, I'm sorry. I was just kidding, okay? I-I'm fine with pizza. Really! But, uh, actually, we can eat something at my place. If you want to, that is."

"I don't want to make you eat something you don't want to, and I don't want to take away from your food, either," Mike said in a low voice.

"You're not! I'm fine with pizza, really. And I want you to eat something from my place. I mean, uh, how many days in a row have you ordered pizza?"

"Five, counting today."

Phone Guy gasped. "Oh no, we got to get you something then. You deserve better than that, unless, uh, you _really_ like pizza."

"I don't."

* * *

The lights from the passing signs and buildings danced in the car and provided the only illumination, and the only sound was the constant hum of the driving car.

Mike fidgeted and occasionally glanced at Phone Guy, the driver.

"So, uh..." Phone Guy started after clearing his throat. "I was wondering why you ordered pizza for almost an entire week if you don't have an unusual... _fondness_ for pizza."

Mike's stomach dropped. "Don't you know what day it will be in a couple minutes?" he responded.

"I-I don't know...uh, your mom's birthday?"

"How the fuck did you know that?!"

A sheepish grin grew on Phone Guy's face, and he shrugged. "Ahah, uh, lucky guess, I guess? I-I swear, I really am not fol- stalking you. I wouldn't do something like _that._ Stalking is wrong! Uh-"

"It's fine. I believe you... I think. Anyway, well, that too," Mike began. "But... you died. It will be the day I heard you die."

The car slowed to a stop, and Phone Guy solemnly stared at Mike with his mouth slightly agape. He was speechless.

As his eyes began to sting, Mike looked away and clenched his fists. "And so I've been too depressed to leave the house besides work. That's why. That's why I ordered pizza all those times."

The atmosphere remained just as still and quiet as the car for a few moments.

Mike decided to break the silence this time. "There hasn't been a single day where I haven't thought about you, you know that, right?" He turned his head and stared straight into Phone Guy's eyes. "I checked the back like you asked. Nothing. I searched the whole restaurant. Heck, I tore those damned animatronics apart my seventh night! Nothing. I tried _everything_ I could. I read years worth of records to try to find out anything. Nothing. I failed you," Mike's voice cracked. Although Mike felt like he was about to shatter, he continued to look at Phone Guy.

"Mike... you checked the back?" Phone Guy faltered. "Th-Thank you." He flashed a warm smile with glistening eyes.

"Y-yeah, you weren't there, though. Why are you... why does it matter?"

"I just didn't expect anyone to _care,_ really, or even remember. But, uh, wait, did you say your seventh night? Great job! How many night guards can say they lasted seven nights? Not very many."

"I know, they all died," Mike muttered.

"Uh, no...? Who told you _that_?"

"You did!"

"N-no I didn't! I said they _moved on to other things._ In fact, I don't think anyone has died...uh, _working_ the _night_ shift _during_ their shift. The first guy got moved to the day shift and so did Jeremy. Smith got... fired on the first night. I lived. I _think_."

Ignoring the fact that he knew none of those names, Mike asked, "How the hell did _you_ survive?"

"I have trouble understanding that myself. Uh, well, let's start off with, uh, what's the last thing you heard?"

"A scream from the pits of hell."

"Oh, that was Fr-Golden Freddy! He isn't so bad!" Phone Guy answered with an anxious grin.

"What the hell are you talking about? How can something that makes a sound like _that_ be 'not so bad'? Did he rip out part of your brain?"

Phone Guy's face fell as flat as a dead heart-line. "No! Uh, not to _me,_ at least," he solemnly replied. "What he did, to me, however, well... uh. I don't know what he did to me, to be perfectly honest. I just remember waking up in him."

"Y-You... you... you were _stuffed_ in him?

"Well, of course! What else would they do to me?"

The thoughts that usually plagued Mike played in his head. _Rip off his limbs, shred and rip out his organs, tear into his flesh, snap his bones in half...the usual._ He cringed and swallowed the burning feeling of his last meal creeping up his throat. "N-Nothing," he finally answered.

"Exactly!" Phone Guy responded with a smile. "Now, usually that would result in... _unfavorable_ consequences, but because of his certain, uh, _design,_ it wasn't so bad-"

"You weren't hurt at all?" Mike interrupted.

"Well, I had some cuts and bruises here or there, but that was one of the suits specifically designed to also double as a costume. Isn't that neat? Heh, I'm sure glad he didn't snap back into his animatronic mode! That wouldn't have been a good night for me."

A wave of relief started in the pit of Mike's stomach and rolled into the front of his face, and he then covered his face with his hands. "Oh God... thank God..." Mike gasped.

Phone Guy started to place his hand on Mike's shoulder for support but then hesitated midway. "Y-You really care that much? Were you _really_ that worried all that time?"

"Yeah."

Phone Guy knitted his eyebrows. "Mike... I'm so sorry," he apologized in a shaky voice.

Mike lowered his hands from his face. "Don't be."

"Why not?"

Mike wiped his nose and smiled. "Because you're okay! I'm okay!"

Phone Guy chuckled. "Y-Yeah, everything turned out to be okay in the end for us, didn't it? We should be grateful, because, uh, it doesn't always end up that way. Uh, do you want to go inside, by the way? We've been in the parking lot for awhile now, you know."

"What? We've seriously been here the whole time?!" Mike exclaimed. "Then yeah, sure, why not."

They both opened their doors and walked into the dim, cool parking lot.

As they approached the apartment building, Mike cleared his throat and asked, "So... how did you get out of... whatever the hell you call that yellow bear?"

"Well, uh, I had to do quite a bit of waiting, but no one ever seemed to come into the back room. After the day shift most likely started, I realized I had to do _something_ to alert someone. That... was pretty hard to do, as, uh, talking, sneezing, coughing, hyperventilating, crying, laughing, sudden movement, or any bodily function, really, will undo the springs, and, well..."

"So _that's_ how you knew what would happen if someone got stuffed if no one died while being a night guard," Mike interrupted. "Okay, sorry, go on about how you survived that death spring trap thing."

"Aren't you observant?" Phone Guy replied with a half grin. "No wonder why you did so great all those nights with no problem! You're a natural! Anyway, yeah, I did what I always did when I felt lonely: make a phone call! Uh, there was a spare phone in the back, so I used that to send a voice mail for the office."

A lump of pride swelled in Mike's throat. "Y-Yeah, you know it! Just like you always told me. I learned from the best. Couldn't have done it without you," he said after he scratched the back of his head and turned his smiling face away. "But, wait, I thought you couldn't talk? How could you make a phone call then?"

Phone Guy opened the building door and let Mike walk inside. "Well, technically, you _can_ talk. It's just not... advisable. But, uh, I wasn't the one who was talking. You see, the voice boxes of those spring animatronics have, uh, a _glitch_ when they're compressed in the costume mode and make... quirky sounds. That was enough to alert the poor day guard that _something_ was going on!"

"Do those 'quirky' sounds," Mike said while doing air quotes, "happen to sound like demonic garble?"

"Uh, y-yeah, they actually were described in very similar terms to that before." Phone Guy answered as they walked up the concrete stairs. "Wait, you _heard_ that? Y-You, uh, you weren't supposed to hear that. Did they forget to delete that recording?"

Mike shrugged. "Guess so."

As they continued climbing the stairs, the conversation grew quiet.

Phone Guy walked a few more steps up to reach the third floor, and then he walked into the hallway. Mike followed him until they stopped in front of a door.

The door crept open after Phone Guy unlocked it. Then, he reached over, flipped the light switch, and let Mike walk in first.

Mike's eyes widened. How could it be so... clean? How could anyone have their lives together _that_ much? Of course, it didn't look like a set-up for an open house; it still looked quite lived in. Quite comfortable to live in.

A soft beep came from behind Mike.

Phone Guy checked his watch on his wrist. "Oh, uh, guess it's midnight now! Tell your mom I said happy birthday!" he said while attempting to take off his windbreaker with a stuck zipper. He tried pulling the windbreaker over his head, and it got stuck again.

Mike swallowed. A year ago exactly now, he heard him being attacked and sputtering what they thought were his last words. Mike thought he died in agony. How could he be so casual about it? But now, he was before him, content and healthy. Mike smiled. Phone Guy was right all along: everything would be okay.

The phone started ringing.

Mike glanced at Phone Guy. _This is just a regular phone call_ , Mike assured himself. Two months after his last shift at Freddy's, phone calls no longer made Mike jump, but this was different. This was a phone call at midnight exactly a year after Phone Guy's last call.

"Hey, uh, do me a favor...and pick that up while I get this off? Ha, uh, sorry about this," Phone Guy said under his windbreaker.

 _Hell no._ "Sure," Mike responded.

Mike nervously tried finding the source of the ringing.

"I-It's right next the lamp."

He found the landline and picked it up.

"Hi!" the same perky voice he heard earlier said. "Are you interested in..."

 **[AN: If you don't like this, just disregard it and pretend the first chapter only exists lol. I understand.**

 **Who's on the phone? Will Mike ever realize that he didn't even ask for Phone Guy's name yet? WHO WAS PHONE? Isn't weird that in FNAF 1, Phone Guy was implied to be the night guard for quite awhile, yet he just so happened to be caught on Night 4?** **FIND OUT IN THE NEXT CHAPTER!**

 **So this seemed really exposition-y and kinda boring. Sorry about that. The next chapter will have more action, as well as a horror element. Also, the stalker bits in this chapter might be foreshadowing for the next chapter! Dunundudnudnudnudndunnnnnnn.**

 **WAIT I promised I would answer a few questions in my last AN. My dog DOES miss me, fyi, because obviously, SO many people would care to know that. :p**

 **K that's it see ya! :D]**


	3. 12:30 AM

**(Note: I changed a LOT in this chapter because it was cringe and edginess dot com. Plus, I changed it so it could make sense with the chapter I plan on maybe posting. I hope this doesn't cause any confusion! I don't think it will, since it has been almost two years since I last updated. Sorry if it _does_ cause confusion though...**

 **After this long time of not updating, I realized the unpublished last chapter wasn't so great, so my new ending is going to be different. I will make the ending of this to coincide with the canon of the new games that came out since then, because they gave me some nice ideas, and I like writing fanfiction that could *technically* happen within the canon. Loopholes are my best friend.)**

"Are you interested in our services?" the same perky female voice on the phone asked.

Full of relief, Mike closed his eyes and exhaled through his nostrils.

"Oh, it's just you," Mike muttered.

Suddenly, the other end grew silent and a few seconds later, there was staticy shifting in the background. Mike heard the phone on the other end be placed down and then picked back up.

"Who is this?" a deep man's voice asked.

"It's me," Mike replied.

"Seriously, who _are_ you? How were you on multiple lines?"

"Uh, Mike," a voice behind him said, making Mike jump. It was Phone Guy's voice. "Who are you talking to?"

Carefully, Mike covered the mouthpiece with his hand. "I'm trying to find out," he whispered and then uncovered the phone. "Who are _you_?" Mike directed at the phone.

"I asked first!" the voice on the phone answered, slightly agitated.

"Good for you! Want a fucking cupcake for that?" Mike sardonically asked.

"Mike!" Phone Guy snapped. After he saw Mike tense up, he softened his expression. "Be, uh, a little nicer. The person on the other side is a human too, so give them a little more respect, okay?"

Mike swallowed and nodded.

"What do you wa- why are you calling?" Mike asked in a politer tone.

"Does a William live here?" the man asked.

Mike's heart jumped. He didn't know... he didn't know! They knew each other for a few hours, but he didn't know Phone Guy's real name. Mike considered him a friend a year ago, and he didn't know his real name. He saved his life, and he didn't know his real name!

He turned his gaze at Phone Guy and looked at him with mouth open, unsure whether to ask him.

Phone Guy scrunched his eyebrows. "Everything okay there?"

 _Hoo hoo hoo._

The phone flew out of Mike's hand as if were a pan straight out of the oven. Shaky, shallow breaths shivered in his lungs.

 _This couldn't be!_ Mike internally screamed, but there was nothing else that deep crying laugh could be other than Freddy.

As soon as Mike regained awareness, he caught Phone Guy already holding the phone, about to put it to his ear.

"Who were you talking to?" Phone Guy tensely asked Mike. After no reply, he sighed and pressed the phone to his ear. "Hello, hel-"

Mike assumed Phone Guy heard Freddy, too, as he gasped and stammered, "N-N-No... no... no..." before hanging up with a trembling hand. "Uh, i-i-i-it was, uh, really nice getting to meet you, M-Mike, really. But, uh, n-never, uh, talk to me again. I-I don't exist. We never met."

In utter disbelief, Mike blinked hard and stared at the other man. " _...What?_ I... I'm sorry I was rude-"

"I-It's not you. It's, well, uh, safety precautions, th-that's all! If you ever hear that voice again call the police immediately, o-okay?"

"They can't arrest Freddy," Mike muttered.

" _Freddy?!_ Wha-What does _Freddy_ have to do with this?!" Phone Guy exclaimed.

"He was on the phone!"

Phone Guy's eyes widened. "What _on Earth_ is he doing at Fazbear's?! Oh no, uh, this... this is not good..."

"Well, it's called Freddy Fazbear's Pizza for a reason."

"I don't care about Freddy!" Phone Guy snapped. "Uh, sorry about that. Just, uh, here..." he continued as he reached into his pocket and handed back the tip money.

The change felt heavy in Mike's palms as he stared at it with burning eyes and looked up. "What's this?" he asked in a dry voice.

"Your bus fare for the way home, because it's too risky otherwise," Phone Guy stated, looking away with his hands in his pockets. In a despondent voice, he continued, "G-Goodbye, Mike."

"No!" Mike shouted. "Too risky?! Why? Are you in danger?"

"You have nothing to worry about. Uh, you'll be fine as long as you follow my instructions."

Mike's face started to burn. "Yes I do! I CARE ABOUT YOU, DAMMIT! Why do you always hide _everything_? JUST TELL ME THE TRUTH FOR ONCE!" he shouted as he shook Phone Guy by his shoulders.

"Why should I?" Phone Guy asked coldly, still looking away. "You, uh, yourself aren't being completely honest, either. Do you really care about me, or do you just feel pity for me because you thought I died after I helped you out a little bit?"

"NO!" Mike cried as he grabbed Phone Guy's shirt again. "I CARE ABOUT YOU! I care about you... I care about you... DAMMIT!"

"Then do as I say, for _my_ sake."

The phone started ringing in its shrill tone again.

Mike immediately huffed and charged towards the phone.

"M-MIKE! DON'T PICK UP THE PHONE!"

Taken aback from Phone Guy shouting the loudest he ever has heard him, Mike flinched but continued the pursuit.

Only a few inches from the phone...

His hand grazed at the plastic surface of the phone as he felt Phone Guy's hands harshly shove them out of the way. When Mike turned his head around, he saw Phone Guy standing there, gawking in horror at the site of the phone accidentally being knocked out of the receiver and then instantly slamming it back in.

"Hello, hello," the voice Mike talked earlier mockingly greeted. "I'm glad I was able to find your contact information again after we lost touch! I hope you didn't mind me finding you through the employee directory. Hey, let's meet up, why don't we? For old time's sake? Meet me at our old workplace! It will be a _blast_."

They both jolted in shock, especially Phone Guy, who then lost balance and fell backwards, toppling Mike on the floor along with him like a domino. When they regained their senses, they looked at the phone, which was accidentally placed on speaker phone.

"You know him?" Mike asked as he nudged Phone Guy, who remained completely numb. They were still sitting on the hard word floor.

The man continued on the phone continued, "I miss you, best friend! Don't you miss me? We need to meet up sometime, okay? Can that sometime be tonight? Okay, good. And should we meet up at Freddy Fazbear's? Oh yes we should."

Mike lifted himself off the ground and grabbed the cold phone.

"Who the hell are you?!" Mike shouted into the mouthpiece, despite it being on speaker phone. "You sound like a goddamn serial killer!"

Suddenly, Mike felt the phone forcefully slip out of his grip, which was followed by the sound of plastic slamming into plastic- Phone Guy stole the phone from Mike once again and hung up, once again.

A stare that could only be described as resentment and disdain pierced Mike's psyche.

"Because that WAS a serial killer, y-you... DOLT!"

Mike stood silent for a couple moments but then smiled artificially. "Haha. For real, wouldn't be surprised," he remarked.

The other man dropped his head and into his hands and sighed. He then looked up, replacing his glare with glassy, empty eyes. He was as silent and still as a corpse for a few moments, but suddenly, with trembling legs, he collapsed on the wall and slid down to the floor to a crouching position.

Mike gasped in a mix of horror and concern and ran towards where the other man fell. As Mike lowered himself and approached him, he realized that Phone Guy was violently hyperventilating and was dangerously pale.

Mike sat next to him and leaned in. "Will- Ph- William... are you okay?"

He looked up at Mike with inconsolable eyes, neither confirming nor denying that it was his name. "I-I'm so s-sorry, Mike. Uh, th-this is... all my fault. Sorry I ruined your Thursday night, but we... are going to have to, uh, get the police involved."

* * *

The air in the room was still with apprehension to the point of being stale, yet every movement that caught Mike's eye made him dizzy.

It has been a half hour since Phone Guy called the police. Phone Guy said a lot on the phone, yet nothing to Mike since then while they were both sitting on a couch.

"So..." Mike began as he cleared his throat, shattering the silence.

Phone Guy snapped back into reality.

"Which serial killer is he? Um, I mean, who is he anyway?" Mike continued.

"You know who he is," Phone Guy answered.

"The... murderer? Of all those kids?! From all those years ago?! But... he's locked up, isn't he?"

" _S_ _omeone_ is locked up, but, uh, it just isn't him."

Mike gulped. "Someone was framed?"

"Y-Yeah," Phone Guy said as he scratched the back of his neck. "I, uh, I tried explaining that to the cops. Not _just now_ , I mean, several years ago in the 80s- when the murders took place. But then they accused _me_ of framing _him_ , either because I was friends with the guy who was arrested, or because they thought maybe _I_ committed the murders myself. Funny, huh?" he chuckled.

"Um, not really. How did you know he framed someone? Is that why he's going after you?"

"I-I saw him- on tape. Uh, they were later destroyed and altered to show it was the other guy. Oh, and, uh, yeah- that's why he's after me. I think that's why I got attacked that one night, too..."

All the hairs on Mike's arms stood up. "W-What?" he gasped with a dry throat.

"So, you most likely don't know this, but almost all of the animatronics have a switch that can control their AIs- even the spring editions. Now, they can be switched to a very low level- even zero- but this will damage their gears from a lack of movement. Uh, on the other end of the spectrum, they can be turned up to 20. Normally, that isn't a problem, unless, uh, the animatronics have a goal in mind that may or may not result in your death and dismemberment."

" _Wait_ ," Mike gawked in a cracked voice, "you think someone sabotaged you and turned the AIs up to 20?"

"Not think. Know. So, uh, the managers for that last Fazbear's you and I worked at weren't the ones in charge of the previous places. But, the franchise, however, was still financially owned by the original owner, if that makes sense. Maybe word got out to him that I was still working there-"

"Why were you still working there?!" Mike interrupted.

Phone Guy's eyes widened in horror. Seconds later, he looked away and sighed. "You know why. I-If I would have _known_ it was him earlier, if I wouldn't have been so _blind_ and _ignorant_ and full of denial... at least five children would still be growing up with their families a-and-" He cut off into complete silence and started trembling.

Mike slowly moved, cautiously approaching his new friend, and caught tears quietly streaming down the other man's almost obscured face.

"Stop that! I mean, there's no way you could have known. I-It's not your fault!" Mike cried.

There was no reply. All the muscles in Mike's face dropped. His felt his heart twist in sympathy when it registered how solemn and raw Phone Guy's silent grief was.

Mike knew better than to try to prod his grieving friend, as it probably would make him feel even worse. In the silence, the dots started to connect in Mike's mind.

First, Phone Guy obviously felt responsible for the murders that took place for not acting in time, and it seemed that he continued working at Freddy Fazbear's to amend that guilt somehow. But why? Did he feel like he deserved the torture as a punishment? Or did he become the security guard to ensure this could never happen again?

Second, if the killer wanted Phone Guy to perish, and if the official owner of Fazbear's finding out that Phone Guy still worked at one of the locations caused said sabotage to happen, that could only mean two things: either the owner of Freddy Fazbear's was either hiding the murderer or was the murderer himself.

The silence was interrupted by booming knocking on Phone Guy's front door.


	4. 2:00 AM

The car vibrated as Phone Guy turned the keys. He stared at Mike for a few seconds and then glanced down.

The atmosphere fell from almost hopeful to despondent the minute they entered the car. Mike felt this was because they were actually going to act on their plans- plans that wouldn't guarantee their survival.

"Hey, uh, you mentioned something about going back to Fazbear's back there, right?" Phone Guy asked, interrupting Mike's thoughts, while plastering a smile on his face. "Or, heh, am I going crazy?"

"Yeah, I did," Mike responded quietly. Hearing Phone Guy's voice was painful, because it might not exist anymore in an hour or so.

"Uh, you weren't, uh...being serious about that, were you?"

"I was."

"Why?" Phone Guy asked before slowly driving the car out of the parking lot.

As he cracked his knuckles, Mike answered, "I don't want us to be his prey. The confrontation is a matter of 'when', not 'if'. And when it happens, I want it to be on my terms."

"I-I don't, uh, underst-" Phone Guy began. He shook his head, took a breath, and then restarted. "What are you planning to do when you see him?"

Mike shrugged. "Take him out."

"Wait, and how do you...? Ah, never mind about that for now. The point is, I was planning on going there as well."

"I know," Mike admitted with a defeated sigh. Phone Guy going to Fazbear's seemed like the most dangerous thing for him, but what about staying alone somewhere? Wouldn't that be more dangerous? " _You_ don't have to do this either."

Phone Guy cleared his throat, cutting into the tense atmosphere. "Well, uh, I actually do."

"You don't have to do anything that manipulative fuck says," Mike darkly muttered.

"I-it's not because of him! Uh, actually, it is, but, uh, not in the way you assume..." he trailed.

Mike looked at him, prompting an answer.

"Ah, well, uh, let's just say, I have to take care of some _business,_ " Phone Guy reluctantly answered.

Mike assumed he just wanted revenge, which was cool in his book, considering they were dealing with a serial killer and all. "Okay. Um, take a right. I wanna go to my place for a moment."

"Uh, okay, that's...alright," the other man said in a tone Mike found unsettling. Mike brushed it off, though. After all, this was an unsettling situation to begin with.

Once they arrived at his residence, Mike hopped out of the car and bolted into his apartment.

It didn't feel like he was really getting his gun out of the gun safe in his room. Once he got it out, the smooth surface of the gun felt like plastic, like it was a prop. He never used it before, not on a person.

After that, he passed his kitchen but immediately halted, as he got something equally important out of a drawer.

He then finally went back outside. The breath in Mike's lungs was painfully forced out when he saw the car wasn't there anymore.

* * *

Mike slid his knife behind his back, well-aware that the stark orange parking lights would reflect the metal very brightly in the pitch-black vicinity. Across the parking lot, he saw a silhouette of a person climbing out of a car. Good thing he was approaching from behind it.

 _This is too easy_ , Mike thought as he grinned and approached his prey.

The person didn't notice Mike until after he tapped on their shoulder.

There was a fearful, jagged gasp as the person jumped and whipped their head around. The person's breath was visible in the eerie lights.

"M-M-Mike?! Uh, uh, what on Earth are you doing here?!" Phone Guy quietly exclaimed, after sighing full of relief.

"What are _you_ doing? Why the hell did you abandon me like that?!" Mike yelled a little too loud, making him flinch when he heard his own echo bounce off the asphalt.

"I-I-I-I'm sorry! I fr-freaked- uh panicked out. Uh, I panicked. I couldn't just p-put, uh, let you be put in a situation like this! I-it's just...it was my job to protect you from any dangers that may be present back then, and I still feel that duty now. In fact, I feel that even stronger now, now that I got to know you and all."

Mike felt his heart pang at those last few sentences. Then, he gritted his teeth, moved the knife to the hand with the gun, and tightly grabbed Phone Guy's shoulder with the now free hand. "How do you think I feel? We're in this together, got it? You're _not_ going to be alone in this. You're not going to be alone ever again, okay?

His hand felt Phone Guy's shoulder tense up. "Y-you don't know that! You could, uh, well, I'm not implying you're necessarily going to _die_ , but, uh..."

Suddenly, a bubbling feeling made Mike loosen his grip on the other man's shoulder. When he couldn't contain it anymore, he completely released his hand and began quietly laughing.

He could see Phone Guy throw his arms out from the corner of his eyes. "Wh-what's so funny? Uh, why are you laughing?!" Phone Guy indignantly asked.

Mike wiped his eyes and widened his already enormous grin. "Nothing. It's just that you're the same ol' guy that I came to adore all those months ago." He then carefully placed his knife back in his free hand.

"I-I, uh, okay," Phone Guy responded while scratching the back of head. "Well, anyway, how did you get here in the first place?"

"Do you want your tip back? That you gave me back as a bus fare? Well, too bad. Anyway, here you go. This is better," Mike answered while placing an object in Phone Guy's open hand and then closing it.

"What is... this for?" Phone Guy asked while stroking his fingers across the smooth surface of the knife and fixating his gaze on Mike's gun.

Nervously, Mike glanced behind him and looked back. "I don't have another gun."

"That's not what I...never mind. Well, uh, Mike...you do know that murder is illegal, right?"

"Is self-defense murder?"

"No, but..." Phone Guy trailed as he held his chin.

Skeptically, Mike stuck his head out and glanced at a side entrance of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, which stood right ahead of them.

"Are you really trying to get in that way?"

"No! Uh, I mean, yeah. What's wrong with that? I still have my key and everything."

"Really?" Mike whispered in a flat, unimpressed voice, while raising an eyebrow. "Not a window or the roof?"

"Yeah- that looks too suspicious. Look, if we enter from a side door, it'll look like we're supposed to be here," Phone Guy replied as he unlocked the old, shoddy door.

Before Phone Guy stepped in, Mike threw his arm in front of his abdomen to prevent him from going further. "Wait, what about... _them_?"

"Them? What do you mean?" Phone Guy asked nervously.

"The demons," Mike whispered as he nervously looked at the blackness ahead of them, thinking that the animatronics could hear him. The dead air from inside was colder inside than the outside, giving him goosebumps.

Phone Guy quietly chuckled. "They're not _demons_ , Mike, they are-" he began. "Well, no, actually you're right. But, uh, anyway, they _should_ be disabled. I mean, that's what we usually did to them."

Right as Mike's arm dropped to his side, he felt something warm and soft grab it. When he looked down, he saw Phone Guy's hand tightly holding his hand.

"Uh, sorry if you find this weird. I-It's just for better safety precautions, you know? That way, we won't get separated and mur- I mean, lost," Phone Guy said as the door slowly closed, leaving them both in total darkness.

 _Murdered...getting lost. Same thing,_ Mike thought as he rolled his eyes and squeezed the other man's hand back.

Suddenly, there was a click and a blinding flickering of a yellow light.

"Good thing I brought this, huh?" Phone Guy told Mike as he lifted his flashlight, which was in the same hand as the knife Mike gave him.

In the beam of light, the air was saturated with dust particles. It was almost impossible to make out the checkered walls and floors littered with old junk and children's drawings.

"Eheh, i-it's kinda spooky here now that it's all dark, you know? It's not nearly as cheerful as it was when it was opened during the day..." Phone Guy mentioned.

Mike smiled. Same old Phone Guy he knew a year ago, never shutting up when he was unnerved. It was just as comforting now as it was back then.

The flashlight illuminated a Freddy poster. As soon as the flashlight went over it, Phone Guy jerked it away and gasped.

"I-i-i-it didn't, uh, turn y-yellow, d-did it?" Phone Guy stammered.

"No."

Mike heard Phone Guy let out a sigh of relief.

Judging from that particular Freddy poster and the familiar, mysterious black goop dripping from the walls, Mike judged that they were in the West Hall, which was right next to the security office.

"Hey, uh, why don't we go in there? We can use the emergency slash back-up power to use the cameras and phone, if necessary," Phone Guy suggested.

Mike nodded, but then remembered it was dark. "Okay. Wait! Back-up power?! Why the hell didn't you tell me about this?! This would have been _really_ useful a year ago when the power ran out!"

Phone Guy angled the flashlight to his own face, which ominously illuminated his sheepish smile. "Mike, _that was_ the emergency power."

"Oh. I hate this place."

"I know."

They could see that the power was already turned on as they stepped in the office, which made Mike figure the killer probably turned the power on to use the phone. After all, he did mention the safe room, and this was probably it- this was the only "safe" area Mike knew in the entire restaurant after midnight.

Anxiously, Phone Guy looked around the cramped security office, and after finding no one else present, he examined the monitor with jittery hands.

From over Phone Guy's shoulder, Mike could see that the power was at 68%. The monitor quietly buzzed and shone a subtle blue light on Phone Guy's face. That, along with the fan's faint hum, made the place almost seem peaceful.

Mike's attention got diverted when a mysterious object on the desk appeared in peripheral vision.

When he walked closer to the desk, he saw that it was a tape recorder. He then glanced at Phone Guy, who remained cemented to the screen. Impulsively, Mike pressed "Play".

"Hello!" a static-filled woman's voice greeted. "Are you interested in our services?" Then, the message stopped.

Phone Guy didn't bulge.

However, Mike was able to figure what this meant by himself: the murderous douche probably recorded the audio from somewhere else to fake a telemarketer call. This way, he could trick Phone Guy into talking and revealing himself. It made a lot more sense that what Mike previously thought he did, which was kidnapping some poor woman and forcing her to say that.

Satisfied with this explanation, Mike then shuffled through old, crumpled papers scattered on the desk. After scanning them, he found nothing of interest.

Next, Mike's eyes traveled to the phone, which read, "2 unread message(s)," in black digital letters on a glowing blue background. Once again, Mike impulsively pressed "Play".

"Uh, hello, hello," Phone Guy's voice began, which sounded absolutely miserable, like he was about to cry. The audio quality sounded very old. "I'm- I am a, uh, re-representative at Freddy Faz- y-yeah, you know. Uh, well, uh, this is a pr-prerecorded message regarding an update on your...on your ch-"

It got cut off from someone behind Mike pulling the phone from the wall and slamming it to the ground.

"Where _the hell_ did he get that?" Phone Guy seethed, while his fists were curled up and shaking.

Mike winced- he never heard him swear or be that angry before.

The phone skipped to the next unread message. "Remember that?" the murderer's voice nonchalantly teased. The voice was extremely distorted due to the phone's damage and began skipping. "I'm glad you could...the instructions for tonight...more dead children...your friends' guts...you can't...save them...you failed-"

After a few moments of shock, Phone Guy recovered and picked the phone up from the ground, only to slam it to the floor once again. This time, the phone completely shattered, abruptly ending the message.

Phone Guy covered his face with his hands for a minute and then sighed. "There was no suspicious activity on the cameras for the past few hours. We're gonna have to physically look through the restaurant the old-fashioned way, but, uh, I think I might know where he is, anyway," he soberly stated.

As they stepped into the East Hall, Mike tightly grabbed Phone Guy's hand.

"I'm sorry for snooping around like that," Mike whispered, fighting the temptation to ask about those voice messages. He was really curious about what they meant, but he cared about Phone Guy's feelings more.

Phone Guy flipped on the flashlight's switch. "No, uh, don't apologize! You did nothing wrong, so you have nothing to worry about, okay? Okay."

Suddenly, Mike felt something furry scurry by his feet, making him yelp in panic. Right away, Phone Guy whipped the flashlight's beam to the floor, revealing a mouse.

This made Phone Guy quietly laugh, which made Mike groan.

Once they were about to enter the kitchen, Mike tensed up. "I-I've never seen this place before," he admitted.

"Eh, it's not so bad! Really, there are no accounts of anyone bleeding out _and_ dying there."

"That doesn't really help," Mike muttered.

Then they entered the kitchen, and from what Mike could see, it looked like any other restaurant kitchen. No rotting corpses or demented animatronics so far.

"See?" Phone Guy asked as he shone his flashlight on a dirty puddle. "That's water- dripping from the ceiling- not blood," he continued as he then moved the flashlight's beam to the leaky ceiling.

Mike cleared his throat. "Anyway...you never told me exactly why you 'needed' to be here. Did you say something about finishing up some business?"

"Yeah," Phone Guy answered as Mike felt his hand tense up. "Look, Mike, uh, imagine you're a child who loves Freddy Fazbear and his gang."

"Seems impossible, but okay."

"And then you find out Freddy Fazbear's Pizza shuts down for good. You're sad, right?"

"No."

"Well, you're sad," Phone Guy corrected, slightly annoyed. "But then someone promises you that you can see your animal friends once again..."

Mike choked. "You think he's killing kids again?"

"Uh, something like that. That's why I'm here- to prevent him from ever doing that again."

Right as they stepped out of the kitchen, the flashlight began to flicker.

"Uh, oh no," Phone Guy said, "it looks like the battery is going out, and we don't even have balloon-obsessed kid to steal them!" After no response from Mike, Phone Guy cleared his throat. "Well, uh, it's best to conserve the battery's juice for now. I'm going to turn it off now, okay?"

"Okay."

After they walked for a little bit, Mike heard a few weird creaks and groans as he approached some decaying drywall. He tried to squeeze Phone Guy's hand, but there was nothing.

Mike's heartbeat doubled, and ice shot through his veins. Then, his thoughts jumped to something else. He imagined the murderer getting his hands on Phone Guy...slicing him up, ripping him apart. Torturing him. Mike's head pounded. Him yelling, wondering how his friend could abandon him like that and leave him to die, also appeared in Mike's head.

He was dead for sure. Mike felt like he was going to faint and throw up. In his mind, he saw Phone Guy's eyes dangling next to his torn-up intestines with an anguished expression.

Frantically, he sprinted in every direction, croaking, "Phone Guy?! Sc-Scott?! Phone Guy?!"

When nothing responded, he swallowed the lump in his throat. He began hyperventilating as he continued rushing in every direction again.

Suddenly, he caught a glimpse of a faint shadow of a man grimly looking down, which distracted him and made him trip over a sharp scrape of metal.

The figure's head slowly turned to his direction. Fear radiated in every bone of Mike. Who is this? Phone Guy? The murder? The police? Perhaps someone else? Mike gulped as he noticed a weapon in the figure's hand.

Then, the silhouette started running away.

Whoever this was, Mike couldn't afford to lose track of them, so he chased the figure into the blackness until he caught up to it and grabbed it.

Immediately, he felt a very sharp pain on his cheek right under his eye, and he felt a warm liquid ooze down his face. He quietly groaned as he felt the wetness on his cheeks with his finger tips and brought it to his nose, making him smell the metallic stench of blood.

 **[Author's note: Sorry I haven't been updating! College bruh. But I'm updating for Valentine's Day, because Microphone is one of my otps! :D Yaaaaay. This was actually in my folder for 2-3 months lol, but it sucked. A lot. Seriously, Mike acted like he was 12 or something in the first draft, so I changed it. A lot. It's a good thing busyness prevented me from posting that mess.**

 **Anyway, about the next chapter, which is probably the only reason you're reading this part. :p It's also been sitting in this folder for 2-3 months! It's like halfway done, because it's actually this chapter split in half. Hopefully, it will be the last one, because I feel like this is starting to drag on. Like, what did this chapter even accomplish?! Basically nothing.**

 **The next chapter has more action in it. I don't know if it will be the last. I'm thinking if it goes over 3k words (without this section, which takes up a couple hundred words lmao), it will just go over that and be a long chapter. I don't know when it will be done.**

 **Oh yeah, and the voice message with Phone Guy is supposed to be when he had to call the families of the missing children to tell them the situation. Since this is in Mike's POV, it's not really clearly stated. Also, the prerecorded voice message with Purple Guy is just him trying to terrorize them.**

 **Wow, if you actually read all of the chapter and these notes, thank you so much! :0 :D]**


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